Young Bloods (45 page)

‘Oh, yes? How can I be of service?’

‘It’s to do with the rooms.You see, I will be in Trim until after the election and I’ll need the best rooms this inn can provide, in which to meet with my supporters, and to entertain various guests. That sort of thing. I’m sure you understand?’

O’Farrell nodded with a good-natured smile. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘Good.’ Arthur felt his spirits rise. The man was going to be quite a decent about the awkward matter of switching accommodation after all. ‘Then I’m sure you’ll see that it makes good sense for us to exchange rooms. I’m certain you’ll find my present quarters perfectly suitable for your purposes, and I will make good use of the rooms currently at your disposal.’

‘Ah, well, I’m sorry to have to disappoint you there.’ O’Farrell shook his head, and gave an apologetic shrug as he rose to his feet. ‘The truth is I need the rooms too.You see, I happen to be hoping to win the parliamentary seat of Trim for myself. I’ll be bidding you a good night then.’ He stepped round the table and gave Arthur a pat on the shoulder before he turned for the door. ‘I’m sure we’ll be seeing plenty of each other in the weeks to come, Lieutenant Wesley.’

Arthur stared at the empty seat opposite him as O’Farrell paced heavily away. As the door to the dining room closed behind the Dublin lawyer,Arthur breathed out softly and whispered,‘The scoundrel!’

Chapter 55

The committee room of the town hall at Trim echoed with the high-spirited conversation of the members of the corporation. Arthur paused just inside and tried to gauge its mood. His eyes flickered over the men standing in front of the long table at the head of the room. Henry Grattan stood in their midst, a commanding figure listening attentively to the local worthies, who clustered about the great man to bathe in his reflected glory. By Grattan’s side stood Connor O’Farrell and he flashed a brief wave at Arthur as his bright blue eyes spotted him from across the room. Arthur smiled back, even as he seethed inwardly.

The election campaign for Trim had been under way for nearly a month and it was clear that O’Farrell had a good start on the young officer from Dublin. As Arthur travelled round the borough to court the favour of the local people eligible to vote in the coming election, he arrived in the wake of O’Farrell more often than not, and had to work hard to solicit their support. Once, when Arthur had arranged a feast, with plenty of ale, to accompany an address to the voters at one of Trim’s inns, he discovered that his opponent had offered an even more elaborate spread in a neighbouring bar, without any long-winded appeal for their votes.

Now it had all come to a head at the corporation’s meeting to confer the Freedom of the town of Trim on Henry Grattan. O’Farrell had placed himself at the head of the movement to honour Grattan and was going to propose the motion. If he won the day, then he would surely gather enough momentum to win the coming election. Arthur knew that this was his last chance to swing the vote towards him. He took a deep breath, and made his way over to his opponent and the guest of honour.

‘Mr Grattan. Welcome to Trim, sir.’ He extended his hand.

Henry Grattan turned to Arthur and scrutinised him with pale blue eyes. Then his lips flickered in a smile and he took Arthur’s hand in a powerful grip and after a brief shake he held on to it as he spoke. ‘You must be young Wesley. Connor has told me all about you. It seems you have a nose for politics …’

As the men around them stifled sniggers, Arthur kept his expression neutral. ‘Mr O’Farrell is an excellent judge of character, and I shall miss his ready wit when I enter parliament.’

Grattan nodded. ‘You’d do well, Wesley. But first you have to beat my man.’ He placed a hand on O’Farrell’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ‘So don’t count your chickens, eh?’

‘As long as you don’t cry fowl when I win, sir.’ Arthur bowed his head. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to join my friends.’

Arthur turned away and was almost out of earshot when he heard Grattan murmur,‘That’s a cool one, Connor.You face more of a challenge than you think.’

The Wesley supporters respectfully offered their greetings to Arthur and he quietly reminded them that they must do their utmost to win the day’s vote. If Grattan was given the Freedom of the town then it would send a signal across Ireland that the government could be openly defied.

There were nearly eighty men present who were eligible to vote.Arthur’s party numbered nearly half that, and he could count on several more votes against Grattan from amongst the more independent-minded of the corporation’s members, who tended to support the establishment view without an instant’s thought. However, such was the renown of Henry Grattan that Arthur was surprised, and a little angered, to find that even amongst his own supporters there were a few who announced they were minded to support the proposal. Before Arthur could deal with them the town speaker announced the presence of the mayor. The arrival of the mayor and his staff stilled tongues into a respectful silence. Once the mayor had assumed his seat at the head of the table he nodded to the speaker and the latter drew a breath and addressed the men in the room.

‘Gentlemen, please take your seats.’

With muted murmurs of conversation the members of the corporation and their guests shuffled over to the neat ranks of chairs in front of the table and slowly found places to sit. When everyone was seated the speaker called the meeting to order and then backed to one side of the table and deferred to the mayor. The latter was a corpulent merchant, dressed in puritan black.The only concession to liberal taste were the shining brass buttons on his coat and the discreetly patterned trim of his collar. He raised his hand and coughed.

‘As you know, the members of the corporation have been gathered to debate the issue of awarding Mr Henry Grattan the Freedom of Trim. Now, this is not an honour that is awarded lightly and I know that the members of the corporation are mindful that the proposal be fully debated before we move to a vote …’

The mayor continued to elaborate the significance of the process for the next ten minutes and Arthur’s attention swiftly wandered as the man droned on. He had tried to prepare for the meeting, but it was impossible to decide on a rhetorical strategy until he had heard the case put to the members by Grattan’s proposer, Connor O’Farrell. And yet so much rested on his response, not least his chances of success in the coming election. The mayor wound up his introduction and motioned towards O’Farrell to begin the debate.

The Dublin lawyer rose to his feet and paced over to the clear stretch of floor between the mayor’s table and the seated audience. Tucking his thumbs into his waistcoat he drew himself up to his full imposing height and began to propose Mr Grattan in a model example of well-trained legal delivery. O’Farrell started with a paean to the great borough of Trim and the inestimable honesty and industriousness of its voters.After several minutes of this Mr Grattan coughed loudly and nodded to his proposer to stop overgilding the lily and get on with it. O’Farrell obligingly introduced Henry Grattan, summarised his career and then developed his main theme - the respectability of this hero of the people. Grattan, he averred, had not only won the respect of the common man, but had won a far wider respect from across the British Isles, and into France, where even this day the example of Grattan was cited in the great debates about democracy that were taking place in the hallowed hall of the National Assembly. At this there was a ripple of approving noises in the audience and Arthur looked round his supporters anxiously and was shocked to see some of them regarding O’Farrell with open enthusiasm.

At last O’Farrell concluded his performance, with yet another stream of flattery aimed squarely at the electorate of Trim and finished with an elaborate bow to his audience. At once the members burst into applause, and for the sake of good form Arthur joined in. The mayor waited for complete silence before he glanced round the committee room.

‘Are there any speakers against the proposal?’

Arthur swallowed and then raised his hand. ‘Sir, if I may?’

The mayor squinted in Arthur’s direction before he responded. ‘The chair recognises the Honourable Arthur Wesley.’

Arthur rose from his seat and made his way down the narrow aisle between the seats and the wall. O’Farrell surrendered the spot in front of the audience and resumed his seat by Henry Grattan. Rapidly collecting his thoughts, Arthur stared at the faces watching him. There was some hostility there, but most seemed surprised by his intervention and now waited attentively to see what the young man had to offer.

‘I wish to say, before anything else, that my respect for our guest is every bit as great as the respect of every man here present. Indeed, since I first had the opportunity of following the parliamentary exploits of Mr Grattan I have been inspired by his example. So much so that I stand before you now as a candidate, aspiring to serve the fine people of Trim every bit as successfully, and respectfully, as Mr Grattan serves the electors in his own borough.’

Arthur saw some of the audience nod approvingly and felt inside his heart the warm glow of contentment at the opening to his performance. He paused a moment to milk the effect, and then continued.

‘I am sure that Mr Grattan will continue to perform his duties with his proven diligence, and that he will continue to work for the improvement of the people with every minute of life that the Almighty is prepared to bless him with.’

Arthur was rewarded with more nods of approval.

‘A man with the political stature of Henry Grattan must be in great demand by those he already represents. How could it be otherwise, given the talents he has been blessed with? Therein lies the great tragedy for the members of this corporation …’

The nodding ceased and several faces now wore looks of discomfort or frowns.

‘If we are not to hinder Henry Grattan in the continued pursuit of his duties we must not burden him with the Freedom of the corporation. Every meeting that Mr Grattan would be obliged to attend here in Trim would take him away from his obligations to other men. Gentlemen, is it right for us to be so selfish in demanding so much of the great man’s time? Why, who else would be capable of peddling the second-hand radicalism that is the stock in trade of Mr Grattan? Who are we to deny Ireland this man’s labours? But then …’ Arthur changed his expression to one of thunderstruck realisation. ‘Perhaps that is precisely why we should grant Mr Grattan the Freedom of Trim! Why, gentlemen, we could tie him down with such onerous civil duties that he would no longer be free to burden the rest of Ireland with his dangerous revolutionary sentiments. I am sure that Mr Grattan would not thank us for such an enormous addition to his labours.’

Most of the audience were smiling now; a handful of others were still struggling with the overly rich vein of irony that Arthur was starting to unveil for them.

‘So, it is in respect for Mr Grattan’s wider audience, and his revolutionary masters in France, that I would like members to consider the offer of this honour to Mr Grattan. I would ask you all to reflect on the consequences of what you decide today. Are we to reward those who would tear down the great traditions of our nation? Think on it with utmost care and caution.’

Arthur let his words sink in for a moment before continuing, on a lighter note. ‘Leaving all that aside, as far as I can discern from Mr O’Farrell’s proposal, the only good reason why Mr Grattan should be given the Freedom of the corporation is … his alleged respectability. Now, I’m sure you perceive the inevitable difficulty of awarding such an honour purely on the grounds of respectability.’ Arthur gestured towards the audience. ‘I’m sure that every man here is blessed with respectability. And outside this room, how many more in Trim are respectable men? Why stop there? Since we have invited Mr Grattan, and his Dublin lawyer friend - both respectable men, I am sure - to Trim, why not extend the invitation to all respectable men in Ireland? Why, soon we would have a whole nation of Freemen of Trim!’

Most of the audience laughed out loud, and amid their good-humoured roars Arthur heard applause. Despite himself, he smiled back at the members of the corporation. He indulged them for a moment and then raised his hands for silence, before the mayor could reach for his gavel.

‘Gentlemen! Gentlemen, please! I think we all now understand why we must, unfortunately, deny this proposal. It would not be fair on Mr Grattan, and it would not be fair on all the other respectable people who deserve the honour every bit as much as Mr Grattan. For that reason I feel compelled to object to awarding him the Freedom of Trim … no matter how great my respect for Mr Grattan.’

As the air filled with more laughter Arthur bowed his head graciously and returned to his seat. The mayor reached for his gavel and banged it down violently, several times, until order was restored and the room was quiet again.

‘Thank you, Mr Wesley. Now we move to a vote. Those in favour of the proposal, please show …’

Across the room, arms lifted into the air. Arthur glanced round but found that he did not dare count them. He turned back to the mayor and watched as the man tallied the votes, conferred with the colleagues seated each side of him, and noted the total on a sheet of paper in front of him.

‘Those against …’

Arthur raised his hand and looked round the room as more arms rose up. The mayor started counting, agreed the total and then coughed loudly before he pronounced the result.

‘For the proposal, thirty-three. Against, forty-seven!’

The supporters around Arthur stood up and cheered and he felt someone shake his shoulder in congratulation. He rose with a smile and shook hands with several men in the crowd that had formed round him. At the front of the hall Henry Grattan had risen from his seat and was marching down the aisle towards Arthur, with O’Farrell dogging his footsteps. At his approach, the members around Arthur drew back expectantly. Grattan strode up to him, his expression struggling to contain the anger and embarrassment he felt at his defeat. He glared at Arthur for a moment before he thrust out his hand.